Code 7616
by ArtElf
Summary: "He's a wanted man. Hunted by local authorities, criminals, Mercenaries, even Black Agents have been rumoured to hunt him." The memory of his cool lips returned to surface, causing him to think for a moment. "Theirs something special about him thats got everyone digging. I'm going to find out why."
1. Chapter 1

_**If your confused, then join me in line. I don't even know what happened here, and I wrote it... That cant be good.**_

_**This is just a little side dish to the main meal, the work I'm currently working on is Project: White Wolf, and don't worry, It's still happening! Though this story has no ties to White Wolf.**_

_**Basically, if Resident Evil was reality, then this is a fantasy. Not sure when it was set, or where, its completely made up! What you see here is... medieval? Yeah, I think thats the right way to put it, its gonna be a mash of all sorts of random stuff. There will be demons, vampires, werewolves, crime, suspense, blood and gore, and all the good.. well, hopefully, good stuff. What is that these days?**_

_**I'm even mashing other games and movies into this, I don't know, maybe Dante from DMC will make an appearance, Sam and Dean from Supernatural, or if you guys like this mash up, you can help me mash it up more... O.o**_

_**This.. eh, chapter, yeah, chapter, is set in a forrest area, actually, its like a city, but instead of these days where there is no tree in sight, this universe, its more nature, more... Medieval.. theres that word again, but with a very advanced modern system.. like, in the next 100 years modern. I don't even know, so don't even ask.. **_

_**OK, enough with my rambling, let me know what you think eh? Love it, hate it, the usual. **_

_**My hot mystery man in this chapter is Leon from RE6, incase its hard to picture. Now you know who I'm referring to when I say 'He'..**_

_**R&R!**_

**CHAPTER 1.**

_Operation Code... Seven.. Six.. One.. Six..~_

Quiet voices reached his enhanced hearing, directing his attention and pin pointing the location of the source, the mind calculating the distance down the the minutes and seconds that his target would reach him. The night was humid, clouds covering the only source of natural light and leaving the area in darkness, cool rain kissed the forrest ground deliciously and everything else in its path, coming to run down in light rivets on a black clad figure. The leather of his garb doing nothing to warm cold skin, despite the warmth of the night, though that did not disturb him, he was always cold..

_Project Identification Number... Eighty... Seven...~_

Rough bark rested under gloved fingers as he moved silently and expertly along the branches, the large tree supporting his weight and keeping him in the shadow of its camouflage. Unnatural blue eyes locked their gaze into the darkness of the path below him... Twenty meters... Sixty seconds...

Silver gleamed as he pulled out a blade quietly, posed on the branch as he waited, eyes trained on the two men now plain in his sight. Nine meters... Twelve seconds...

_Is he stable?~_

_Yes, sir. We have 100% confirmation.~_

One... The black clad figure jumped, landing silently behind his target, the slight flutter of his coat was all the warning the men got, before he spun on his feet, left arm coming around in a ark and silver cutting smoothly through the air. The blade sunk into the side of the neck of his priority target as blood flew, coming to mingle with the rain that soaked the forrest floor. Pulling the blade free, he spun again, kicking a leg out that swept the dying mans body to the ground before turning to the other unfortunate man who pulled out his gun, his arm steady despite the horror on his face.

The gun never sounded as he moved with almost in-human speed, coming to stand in front of his second target, he grabbed the hand holding the gun and with quick skilled work, broke the fingers. A split second later the gun was falling and he twisted around to stand behind the man, the broken hand still in his grasp and now being held at a irregular angle. A second later, he brought his free hand around, the silver that glinted with crimson briefly was the last thing his second target saw before he was disposed in the same matter of the first.

_I want him under twenty four hour watch, if anything changes, I want to be notified immediately.~_

"Do you have my order?"

He looked back to the man in front of him calmly, the blue in his eyes now reflecting like the calm of a river, the silver of the moon lightening them to a shimmering grey. These men were cautious with him, oh so very cautious, judging by the face that they'd surrounded him and at the same time keeping their distance. Numerous of hands were brushing their weapons, eyes locked onto his, some untrustworthy, some angrily, the odd few were admiring in an uncomfortable way, and even others refused any eye contact at all. They were scared of him... If only the same could be said of one man.

"Do you have my order?" Came the tone again, slowly and precise, but even he could hear the venom, the threat, the promise of bad things should he not come clean on his end of the deal.

He reached into his inner coat pocket, the movement caused some men to flinch slightly. He could have smirked. Small victories. He locked his gaze onto the emotionless ones of the other, pulling out a envelop, the white of the paper a sharp contrast to his garb. He held the envelop up at level, seeing those eyes that continued to hold his gaze despite the prize in his hand. He didn't hand it over as expected of the other man. "My payment." He said simply, the calm demeanour still in place, always in place.

_Status?~_

_There is something wrong, his body wont accept vial 6.1, he's weakening. ~_

_Commence vial -6.0.~_

_Sir..?~_

_Do it.~_

The other man's face was kept emotionless as he took out a small silver bottle from his pocket, showing the black clad figure. "I never break a deal. But the real question is, do you?" The man said dangerously.

In answer, he held out the envelop at arms length, knowing his part in this deal, his place. The order must be taken, and not given, the payment given, and not taken. Its not the fact that he could win in this fight should one arise, or simply take what he wanted. It was the business of the order, the rep of both parties. This man was dangerous, he had lots of connections, lots of cards up his sleeve. You play by his rules, rules that he can create and change at any desired moment, and once the deal is set, you must make the full payment.

The man stepped forward, taking the envelop, eyes still locked onto the un-natural ones of the other, before finally averting to the papers the he pulled out of his order, analysing each and every detail. The silence stretched.

He watched the mans eyes skim over the papers, then he looked at the others standing around him, taking note that they too looked edgy, fingers posed for action should his side of the deal be dirty. Even though the atmosphere was tense enough to suffocate, he continued to watch the other mans emotionless face, he know's he came clean with his side, its just a matter of the other seeing it that way.

A hint of a smile marked the other mans face. That can either be bad, or very very bad..

"The order is good." The man said, which put the other men somewhat at ease, hands now relaxing. "But..." The man continued, taking a step forward, coming closer to him. "Rule number one: _Never_ open the package." Coming to a stop right in front of him, too close and invading his personal space, the mans smile wavered.

He resisted the urge to take a step back, stoping his hand short of grazing one of the knives he has concealed as he locked his un-natural gaze on the icy ones of the other. Faltering would be a mistake, and stepping up would be a bigger one. So he did neither, which he knew the other man wasn't expecting.

_Subject 7616 has regained consciousness.~_

_Good._ _Start running the tests.~_

Some of the men standing around them shifted on their feet, others watched on with interest as the man brought up a hand to take hold of his face and brushing dirty blond hair out of his eyes, something he mentally and physically fought to remain calm, hands were itching. This was a dangerous game.

"Beautiful eyes..." The man said quietly, almost softly, something that sounded out of place coming from such. "Whats your name?"

He looked back at the man, tense, the mans hands were warm on his cold skin. How easy it would be to grab those hands, twist them until a satisfying crunch sounded in his sensitive hearing... "My name is my own." He said, allowing the annoyance the creep into his tone as he held his hand out between them. "My payment." He demanded, the deal was set, but incomplete. He wasn't the one that should be making the pages turn, but he wasn't playing games either.

_Tests have come back positive, his blood is accepting the dosages.~_

_Move to the mental and physical tests next, I want to see how much he can take.~_

The man smiled again, hands withdrawing but eyes still locked onto his.

Cool metal touched his equally cool skin, even through the gloves, his hand closed around the small bottle, un-natural eyes moved down to the object, unscrewing the top and tipping it on its side, allowing one small white pill to land on his leather covered hand before he picked it up. His gaze again holding the others as he brought it to his lips, testing the mans word on keeping his end of the deal.

His heightened sense of taste and smell picked up sorts of toxins and ingredients. The ones he'd asked for. Looks like he wont be killing this man after all... he thought, not being amused. He'd rather liked the idea of slashing the perverts throat.

That was the deal, now set and sealed. He didn't say anything as he pocketed the bottle, fixing a stare on the other man before moving to take a step back, his anger melting like carbon fibre in his eyes when the man took a firm hold of his arm, stopping him.

"One more thing." The man drawled out, his other hand resuming its position on his face, a thumb tracing the scar that marked his bottom lip that trailing half way down his chin.

The man brought his face even closer, warm breath mingling with his as he slowly slid his hand to one of the blades hidden from the groups view.

"This is my company, I hire you, you obey the rules. While your under my employ, you are under my roof. I make the shots. After the deal is done, you are free to go." The man spoke evenly, the warning he held in his tone a clear point of authority. The man stared at those eyes again, being so close he could see the colour change with emotion, a look that probably would have scared hundreds of people, a look that wasn't human... Though he wasn't scared in the slightest.. no, he was intrigued by it, drawn to it. Like a moth to white light... and a hound thats caught something delicious in the air, the need to taste.

_The subject is fighting, we've upend to dosage, but he will not corporate, he's too strong.~_

_Proceed with the project. He will break. He will learn to surrender.~_

_This is amazing... We've never seen evaluations like this...~_

The taste of his breath was intoxicating, like a drug. It was strange, he didn't pull away like the man expected he would, instead he allowed the brutal move, he didn't make any act of fighting back when the man drove in deeper, nearly rendering him unable to breath as the man ravished his mouth with hunger. The man was already addicted, action purely driven by lust, but partly a reason to chain of command.

He had a good rep, a very good one. One that most people wont involve themselves with, simply being too dangerous, he wasn't human, but he wasn't a monster. Although those who have heard of this nameless figure would say other wise, he didn't prefer the term monster, but as for a killer... Now that was another story. He is a trained assassin, for hire. The things he is capable of, the amount of people he's killed, he is marked a legend in the criminal world. A monster... more common than people want. This world is full of them, and while all of the sightings of 'monsters' have been described animal like, demons, cannibals, werewolves and vampires, he was his own species.

The mouth that was currently taking his own, nearly causing him to gag, angered him. This had gone on for far too long.

A few of the other men, looking on with amusement, and others in envy, suddenly stepped forward, hands grasping their weapons when they caught a glimpse of silver against the dark cloth of the figure.

The man wasn't surprised or worried when he felt the cool sting of a blade resting at his throat, and after another seemingly short moment he finally pulled away, if ever so slightly, to smirk at those amazing eyes which glared back at him, colour shifting. The man licked his own lips in memory.

That action angered him, his hand tightened on the hilt of the knife, imagining the crimson that would flow at such a wound... Oh, it was tempting.. "The deal.." He started, eyes alight with flame. "Is _done_." He held the knife there as he stepped back, now with the man at arms length, and when the other men caught sight of his eyes, it was possible that some shrank back in fear. He pulled his knife back and sheathed the cool blade, turning his back to the man as he started walking away, the gap provided when some men stumbled out of his way. He didn't even need to look at them.

_We have a break through. He's not resisting the treatment anymore.~_

_Good, then we have him right where I want him..~_

"I look forward to our next one." The man said, his demeanour was again back to professional, to threatening, and to promises. The man had no intention of loosing sight of him, there will be a time when he will be under the mans full employ. For now, the distance was only a break for the wild card up the mans sleeve.

He didn't answer, his part in this deal was finished. It's time for a new one.

_The room was stark white, and it hurt his eyes which seemed to feel over sensitive. The area was simple, square room, no windows, only one table in the middle and a chair which he was currently sitting on. He looked down again for what seemed like the hundred time, there were tags on his wrist, the numbers etched 007616, 87. He didn't know what they meant, he didn't know what any of this meant. Where was he anyway?_

_The sound of the only door to the room caught his attention, looking up just as it opened, revealing a tall man dressed entirely in black. _

_Their was silence when the man sat down in front of him, nothing in his hand, just the two of them in this white room, his dark shades hiding his gaze. "Do you know where you are?" He asked, the deep voice sounding in the small room._

_It took a moment before he was able to reply, the form and knowledge of speech seemed to have skipped his hazy mind. "N-..no." His throat was sore, like he'd swallowed needles._

_"Do you know who I am?"_

_He sat there for a moment, staring at the man, trying to remember something. Anything. He shook his head after a moment, swallowing past the pain that kept him from talking. _

_"What's your name?"_

_He felt the need to say something, when a thought ran through his mind, one that made him panic... 'Who am I?'_

The man watched him literally disappear in the forrest after the darkness engulfed his frame, and all he could think about was that they will meet again, something the man will make sure of.

The other men looked at each other in slight confusion, before one stepped forward. "We're just going to let him walk away? Thats not like you." He said, causing the others to chuckle, some of them remained silent.

The man nodded. "He's a wanted man. Hunted by local authorities, criminals, Mercenaries, even Black Agents have been rumoured to search for him." The memory of his cool lips returned to surface, causing him to think for a moment. "There's something special about him thats got everyone digging. I'm going to find out why." He nodded at the younger man, one of his best trackers. "Lucas, keep tabs on him. I want to know everything he does, every place he goes, every job he makes, and every employer."

Lucas nodded, accepting to good challenge. This man, after all, was a ghost. "And you, Marcus? He's not human, you've heard the stories, he's a very dangerous wild card."

Marcus nodded, smirking. "Yes." Eyes darting to the last known location of his prey. "Yes he is."

_"Who am I?" He asked the other man, who sat there, eyes through the dark shades were boring into his own. "Who are you?"_

_"Who I am is not of importance, for the moment." The man said smoothly, "We are going to focus on who you are." The man pulled out a small mirror from the pocket of his coat, placing it on the white table and sliding it over to him._

_He looked at the dark man before glancing at the small mirror, bringing it up to glance in. What he saw startled him. A stranger. He ran his hand over his features, watching in realisation as the person in the mirror did the same thing. Smooth pale skin, un-marked was discovered under his fingers, a shaped face, bordered by dirty blond hair that hung over his right eye.. his eyes.. He could have dropped the mirror. He knew human when he saw one, and what was looking back at him was _not_ human. Eyes like sapphire, that seemed to withhold a shimmering effect, making him wonder if they'd light up in the dark. What scared him, though, was the pure white mark that rested within his black pupils, exactly cat like._

_"Wh-what am I?" He stuttered._

_"You are unique." The man said, taking something again out of his pocket and placing it on the table. _

_He reached to the object, curious, and picked it up. Dog tags, they were dog tags. He looked up at the man again before looking down, the letters etched perfectly. 'Leon S Kennedy', they read, and although the name didn't sound familiar, he had a sickening feeling that these tags... were his. He looked back into the mirror, matching the name to the person staring back at him... wait, no, he wasn't human..._

_"I don't remember anything.. Not even my name." He muttered, feeling lost and confused. What was he going to do?_

_"Thats why I'm here, I'm going to help you." The man said, leaning forward and taking his glasses off._

_Red eyes stared back at him. _

_**Sorry for any spelling errors, I'm using a old computer and a program called 'Word document." Yes. Its just as bad as it sounds…. Review! :D**_


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2:**

He was breathing heavily, tiredly, knife raised in front of him and he etched closer, sweat beaded on his face, causing a fine sheen in the light of the moon, the shadows of the trees casting alarming and interesting patters everywhere and momentarily confusing him as to which of them was unnatural, as to which would give away the location of his prey. He knows they are there, he can smell them.

There was a rustle to his right, causing him to turn sharply in that direction as a bird flew off into the darkness of the sky. Another one behind him, re-directing his attention, he turned again, and finding nothing. His senses were on high alert, from smell to taste, to hearing and eye sight, right down to instinct.

They were toying with him.

This was a hunters match, who's the better killer. Only there was one of him, and two of them.

Another noise caused him to turn, followed by laughter the echoed lightly in the dense woods, unable to locate the precise point where the sound was coming from. They were fast, very fast, faster than any vampire he'd ever uncounted before. Movement in the darkness drawed his heightened attention, movement he knew was the unnatural shadow he was looking for.

He'd been hunting these two for seven days, memorising their kill patterns, the areas in which they'd strike, and narrowed it down to a isolated part of the forrest outside of a small town near by. He'd found them a few times, and each time they'd lost him, this time though, he'd 'accidentally' ran into them. That was five hours ago, five hours of pursuit, fight, pursuit, fight, and now here they were again. Despite his system and endurance, he was tired, wounded, even he had limits. This time, they weren't getting away, and it seemed, they had the same thing in mind about him.

He could see the slight outline of a figure standing behind the tree in front of him, catching sight of whisp's of hair flowing. He smirked, edging silently closer with his knife raised, he's foot falls didn't so much as make a leaf twitch as he neared his target.

If only it seemed as easy as it looked.

Movement. This time directly behind him, movement that wasn't his current prey. He turned quickly, only just deflecting a blow with his knife, only the other was faster with its second attack and he was unable to bring his knife back in time. Very long, very sharp claws slid under his defences and right into his left shoulder and pushed him back against the tree in which we was stalking before. The sound of something striking the wood was the sound of those claws biting into the bark. They went right through his shoulder.

His grip on the knife was lost in the pain that shot right through him, only now understanding the second noise he heard was him yelling in agony. Being what ever he was now didn't give him the super human kick to not feel pain, oh he felt it, the only difference is his healing speed, and his immune system on fighting off sickness and disease, including infection's and viruses, also the occasional supernatural wounds like vampires and werewolves.

The vampire pinning him laughed, the shrill sound grating against his heightened hearing. "Got'cha." She said, laughing again at her catch. Movement sounded beside her and the other vampire stepped out of the shadows, deep red hair against the black silk of her clothing, slyly strutting over to marvel.

"Shame..." Her tone was somewhat exotic, in a sense, she smiled wickedly at him. "I thought he was smarter than that." She pouted. "What will we do with this one eh, Mishka?"

Mishka made a thoughtful look, seeing the injuries that they both sustained, which was more than she ever thought, considering there was only one of him. She had to admit, the man was good, but she was tired of this one, such a pursuit he made, such a nonsense. "Hmm..." She looked at her companion. "I think a treat in is order, don't you, Lvian?" She turned her piercing gaze to her prey, smiling, fangs showing in the moons light.

Lvian giggled, coming to stand in close. "He's a handsome one... pity."

He swallowed back a moan as the one named Mishka lent in, the movement following the hand currently lodged in his shoulder. Hot breath danced across his chin, coming down to stop at the collar that framed his neck, before warm fingers undid the few buttons enough for the fabric to be pulled aside, where the breath moved to linger at where his neck met his collar bone. He wasn't sure what would happen if he got bitten, whether or not his system would reject the poison in the vampires fangs or if it will adapt to it, turning him into more of a monster than what he already was. One thing was for sure, he didn't want to stick around and find out.

"Oh come on, Mishka, stop teasing. Its late, and I'm hungry." Lvian protested when her companion continued to smell her captive, who's face, surprisingly, was calm, layered with sweat that trickled down his neck... the same could have been said for his breathing, but she could hear the uneven breaths he was trying to control, she could hear his heart beating fast. The sound made her even more restless.

Unknown to them, he had a vastly growing plan in mind. Yes, he should have known better not to fall for the obvious prey, he should have seen this coming... but then, they should know he was always armed, he always keeps a handy weapon free, a back up for everything. He made a show of feeling intense pain, bringing his free hand up to grasp at the wrist of the claws that were pinning him to the tree, breathing turning intently more panicked at he felt the itching feeling of sharp teeth brushing over a sensitive spot on his neck.

"Calm down, Lvian, you'll get your meal." Mishka said annoyingly, before turning her attention back to her prey. A deep laugh sounded in her throat, sounding more like a growl of hunger. "Don't worry, handsome, we'll make this last.." She drawled, leaning back in to take a bite.

He counted down roughly two seconds before he decided that it was time to act, and just as the teeth again grazed his skin, intending to clamp down, he flicked his injured arm, ignoring the pain at the movement and was satisfied when cool metal slipped into his palm. Bringing up the weapon before the two vampires were aware of his intentions, he slashed at the wrist pinning him, causing Mishka to jerk back as well as retracting her claws from his shoulder. He stumbled, only just managing to catch himself as the vampire tired to pin him again, ducking under the blow and driving the blade forward into her stomach. It wasn't enough to kill her, but was all he needed to get out from under their hold.

He rolled to the side, picking up he's discarded knife on the forrest floor with the movement before standing in a crouch, wrist blade in one hand, and knife in the other. He ignored the throbbing in his shoulder as he faced the two off.

The still night wasn't for much longer.

Mishka recovered quickly, snarling in rage as she drove forward to her prey, who performed a counter attack that had her falling over his shoulder to land somewhat roughly behind him.

He turned to her, slashing out with his knife and leaving a gouge across her face, stunning here momentarily as he spun around to the second, just in time to dodge a blow to the head. He grabbed Lvian's wrist, taking it with him as he twisted around in a full circle which left her whole side vulnerable, the movement was completed when he delivered a round house kick to her chest, the force of the blow sent her flying in the tree they had him against before.

The moment was short after he felt strong hands, one latching around his chest and the other taking hold of his left arm, attempting to immobilise him. He wouldn't have any of it. He clicked the side of his boot against the ground, trusting the movement to his favour as he then drove the heal of his boot into Mishka's shin, knowing the small device worked when she shrieked as the small blade attached to the heal of his boot hit the bone. She loosened her grip, ever so slightly. Second window...

He manoeuvred himself so that he was facing her, smirking at her anger and surprise before he drove his knife into here chest... right into here heart. She gasped, clutching at the hilt, her gaze fixed on his sapphire eyes, before she slumped down, her limbs going slack as he released her. She fell to the ground. Not moving. Not a second after, there was a shriek of rage from behind him, he turned around just as the sound of something cutting through the air reached his ears. Instinct forced him to pull back, falling backwards in attempt to dodge the projectile, eyes locking onto the silver of the small blade as it sailed over him, only just missing his nose as he landed on his back on the ground, just missing landing on his kill.

Again, pure reflex pushed him to role to the side, missing the knife that Lvian had driven into the ground right beside his throat. He kicked sideways with his leg, tripping her and causing her to loose balance, he was on her in a heart beat, driving the same knife to her chest. The razor sharp point coming to prickle at her skin as she reached up just in time to stop the blade from ending her life. She snarled up at him, yellow eyes full of hatred. The kick she delivered to his chest sent him flying.

He was stunned for a brief second as he lay there a number of meters away, the thought of how 'this didn't go to plan' making him want to laugh. They never did go to plan... was the thought that crossed him mind when he felt a hand at his throat. Again. Lifting him up, the pressure clamping around his wind pipe and leaving him unable to draw in any breath.

Her furious gaze met his own, yellow eyes blazing. "You..." Lvian hissed. ".. Will die tonight, human."

He glared right back at her, hands grasping at her's, colour bleeding in his eyes, making them seemingly glow. "Im -not.. human." He managed to choke out, the confusion that flashed in her angry eyes was enough, third window...

He could feel the bones shifting in his right hand and moving forward from the for-arm, the feeling one he never got used to. The sound of tearing fabric caught the vampires attention, and she looked on in utter shock as the 'humans' hand changed, two very sharp knife like bones broke through on top of his hand, coming to rest in between the knuckles, and when the mutation stopped, the bones came to be at least thirteen inches long.

He resisted the urge to wince at the painfully strange feeling, and instead smirked at the look on the others face. Time to turn the game around. Lvian's hesitation was her end as he drove the razor sharp extensions into her chest, and she watched in dejection as her blood flowed down her form, staining the soil beneath them.

The vice grip around his throat loosened, allowing him to finally draw in a breath as he watched the life of the vampire fade, her blood coating his hand as he lowered her to the floor.

The night was finally at ease, silence stretched through the woods, the faint wind coming to tickle his face and brushing dirty blond hair from his sweaty skin. He kneeled next to the vampire, pulling his hand free and taking a moment to stare at the blood covered mutation. He hardly ever uses it, only as a very last resort, the mutation is just another thing that continues to painfully remind him of who he is, of what he is. Glancing down at the corpse, he knew he was no different from them. They were all hunted, all killers. They were feared by civilisation, people did not understand them, and people are scared of that.

Maybe they, or people like him, deserve to die after all...

His hands were shaking as he forced to mutation to withdraw, disappearing under the skin like nothing ever happened, only the blood and the new torn holes in his gloves the only sign that they had been there.

His mind was blank as he watched the body's burn, standing on the out skirts of the flames that turned the dead to ash, the warm glow of the blaze shone on his face, reflected in the now calm shimmering eyes.

He wondered if he will ever be the one burning one day.

The sound of a woman singing reached his heightened ears as he sat on top of one of the buildings lining the small town, tired, aching, the gentle tune's lulling his worries and fears. The wound to his shoulder had been tended to, he had seen to the requirements and wrapped it, it would be about 3 days before the injury was completely healed. The only evidence of the wound was the four holes in his coat, something that irritated him to no end, but in time he'll fix it. Just not tonight.

He was a man on he run, from who and what, he didn't quite know, all he knows is that everyone try's to kill him when they find out he's not human. He doesn't have a home, no place to stay. He'd made that mistake once before, so now he's always on the move, never stays in the one spot for more than a week.

He found himself drifting, sleep at the edges of his vision, the only thing he could hear was the lullaby before he finally gave up the inner fight to stay awake.

_He stared at his hand, for a long time, just thinking, wondering, he didn't know what happened, he just reacted, and he wondered if he really is the owner of this hand. It didn't feel like it, and yet it did. He was scared, confused, angry, all of the above. Since he found out his name, the man with the shades had then put him into training immediately, saying it's part of his health, of finding who he was. He'd lost his memory, and now the only thing he has to go by, is his name._

_The door to his 'room' opened, he didn't need to look up to know who it was. He continued to stare at the limb in front of him, waiting. _

_"It's natural, for your condition." The man said._

_"My condition?" He asked quietly, almost laughing at the term, but not quite getting there as glared at his hand. Seeing the slight pink marks where the... mutation, had broken through. He didn't know what else to call it._

_The man said nothing, confirming his suspicion to the phrase 'the less you know, the better.' He laughed dryly, bitterly. "I'm a monster." _

_The man came to kneel down next to him, grasping the hand that was his attention, studying the marks. "You are something more. Something.. greater." The man grabbed his chin, directing his gaze. "This is nothing to fear, but to embrace, learn to control it, and you will find... who you are." _

_He looked at the man's shades, seeing the very faint red behind them. Something in him told him not to trust this man, that he's not who he appears. But the other side won over, this man had been there when he woke up, given his name, helped him back to health, to find his centre. In a world without memory, he did trust the other man. _

_The man saw the acceptance in the sapphire gaze, standing up and walking to the door._

_"Who are you?" He asked softly, generally grateful for the other, even though his trust issues sometimes got the better of him. So far the man had done nothing but help him._

_The man paused for a long moment, before turning slightly. "Wesker." _

_He nodded, the name not sounding familiar, he could see the unease in the others shoulders, the way the man gripped the door handle in anticipation, he thought it was because they were strangers. "Thanks."_

_He didn't see the smirk that graced the mans face as he closed the door behind him._

_**Don't forget the Review guys! Let me know what you think! :)**_

_**Like the mash up? Or throw away the potato? **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**OK, If you don't like slash, then go no further than this :/**_

…_**.Are we past that? Righio, this is chapter 350… nah, just 3. Really. This chapter is crossed over with Devil May Cry, and its Leon/Dante. If your confused about this story making sense, or where its going, then pack your lunch and line up, it may be a while before even I know whats happening ;D**_

_**Never written anything like this before….. so… yeah. **_

_**Love it, hate it, review it. **_

CHAPTER 3

"Lets cut the crap, snowflake. I'm not here on vacation." He said to the other man, who's feet were kicked back on the desk in a bored fashion, who's grey stormy were eyes locked onto the gun that the man was cleaning.

The man named Dante looked up from his work, taking in the others captivating blue gaze, eyes that he can and has gotten lost in a number of times with their encounters. The room they were in was dark, the only light source was from a few candles that were dotted around the area, creating a warm effect, casting delicate hazy patterns in its wake as the small flames danced calmly.

"You know..." Dante started, idly tracing a finger on the silver of the weapon. "Knocking, would have been nice." He said slowly, no hurry at all. He made a small movement, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe even a note...?" He eyed the black clad figure in amusement.

His only answer was a smirk. "You know I don't play like that." He said, walking over to view the other mans sword collection that decorated an entire wall, admiring the fine blades.

Dante signed, putting the gun and cloth down on the desk. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised by now." He eyed the other man closely, seeing the broad shoulders, booted feet, the rest was hidden under the layers of cloth and leather coat. He was average build, not as tall at one would think with his background and reputation, but Dante knew better, he knew all to well the strength hidden in that figure. "Don't tell me your here for more knives." He said dully, appearing to be not really interested as to the reason for this sightly visit.

"I won't tell you, then." Came his response, causing Dante to role his eyes.

"Who's not cutting the crap now, hm?" Dante mocked.

He finally turned to look at the other man, a hint of a smile ghosting his face. "I think you know why I'm here." He simply said, walking over to the desk in a slow calculated pace, the sound of his boots weighing on the wooden floor lightly. His movements were watched carefully as he came to stop right next to the seated man, who's hands moved as he proceeded to swing a leg over the others which were still kicked up on the desk. He made himself comfortable on the half demons lap, forearms moving to rest on either shoulder. He lent in close to the others ear, the fingers of his left hand lightly feathering the man's hair, white like snow. "C'mon, think about it, snowflake... think about it." He whispered.

Slowly, Dante's hands found their way in the leather coat, returning the half embrace. Looking up might have been a mistake, because his eyes were yet again trapped in the others cool gaze, liquid blue against stormy grey. Eyes that held so much emotion, and only for the other. Dante was drawn in, a hand freeing itself from within the leather folds, coming to smooth its way along the others neck and up, until it was resting against the cool skin. Warm lips met cool ones in a steady rhythm, like the dance of the candles giving off heat in the room. Dante found couldn't pull away, he never could.

He couldn't help but moan softly, melting in the half demons embrace, for only Dante could do this to him, warm him from the inside like no leather coat could do. He removed his gloves, letting them fall to the floor beneath them as he ran his bare fingers through soft white strands, trying to get every inch closer to the seated man he was currently straddling, and finding that it wasn't enough, not near enough.

Previous night plans were forgotten for Dante, and instead were replaced with new ones. Ones, he thought, were deemed far more exciting as the dance grew more heated, more urgent. Dante took his legs off the desk, strong hands grasping the dirty blonds hips and lifting him up as he stood, placing the younger man on his desk and coming to stand in between leather covered thighs. When he was sure the man was settled, he released his hold on the others hips, skilled hands coming up to remove the black leather coat, fingers discovering and running over the new holes, but he continued, something that Dante will ask about later. For now...

It was the need for oxygen that forced them apart, but didn't cease them, and he gasped when lips attached themselves to his throat, warm rough hands creeping through the fabric of his t-shirt, ghosting over skin. His grip on the broad shoulders tightened and his heightened sense of smell was over run and consumed by that of Dante, leather, gunpowder, smoke, faint hints of cologne, and that demonic smell hit his senses, one that he was never able to place since they first met.

_He was tired. Really, _really_ tired. Something he hadn't felt in weeks, the sort of feeling that left one unable to even move, so that made him wonder how he was even awake in the first place. His mind felt hazy, but his memory was still there, well, of the previous few weeks anyway, the reason to why his limbs refused to move was vivid in his mind. They were fast, speed that could easily match his own, strength that had him fighting harder, that had him on the edge on his toes. He had been out numbered, twelve to one._

_Impossible odds for a human._

_Though luckily, he guessed the reason he was still partly breathing was the fact that he wasn't considered 'human' anymore, something he would have loathed any other day. Though it would seem that today, wasn't one of them._

_It was then that he decided he was grateful, his bearings coming back with clarity. Wood and pine, leather and gunpowder, books and the sorts, a hint of cologne, and something else hit his nostrils... something he couldn't identify, and that unnerved him._

_He went to move next. _

_Bad idea._

_Pain flared through his stomach, and he mentally cursed at himself for forgetting that minor detail. He may have come out alive, but those... creatures sure dealt him a good one too, he was sure he was dead..._

_"Your awake, I see." Commented a wryly voice._

_His eyes snapped open at the thought of company, something he learnt the hard way, was never good to have, considering what he was. Un-natural eyes darted to the source of the voice, body again fighting to sit up from where his mind discovered a second later was a couch in what looked like a large office room. He caught a brief glance of the figure kicked back in a chair before pain again left him immobile, causing him to groan sharply in surprise and falling back down. He didn't think the wound was that bad..._

_"Don't do that. You'll wreck my hard work." The voice grumbled, clearly unimpressed._

_He stopped moving, coming to the conclusion that it was probably a good idea, for the time being. He kept his eyes pinned out of sight of the other by closing them, relying on his other heightened senses to feedback his surroundings, and his situation. The feeling of being colder than normal told him that his jacket was gone, and that the shirt he was wearing wasn't his own, lightweight in areas told him that his weapons were also gone, something that greatly disturbed him. His hands patted down his sides, checking for his knife. Nothing their either._

_"Where-" He cleared his throat. "Where's my gear?" He wasn't expecting an answer, and to be honest, he was surprised he wasn't restrained is some form, or bound, word had it that people were looking for him, specifically, black agents. He'd only encountered them once since he got out of the facility a few weeks ago, and only just got away from their clutches by a thread. _

_"Your stuff is here, I just don't make it a habit to get shot by someone I just saved." The voice remarked dully, there was a shuffling sound before foot falls neared the couch. _

_He tensed, listening intently as the person stopped right next to him, then kneeling down. He didn't need a weapon to inflict some serious damage, but in his current state, he knew would only end badly. It was then when he was contemplating a defence when what the other man said earlier caused him to pause that line of though. "Saved?" He asked, generally confused._

_A pause. "Yeah, couldn't leave you to die, not with the fight you put up. I must say.. very impressive for a human." _

_That raised another flag in his mind, and he couldn't stop from turning to look at the other, finally opening his eyes. The first thing he saw were the most stormy grey eyes he'd ever seen, white messy hair like snow framing a strong shaped face, and despite the colour he had features the age of a twenty five to thirty five year old. He realised his error as the man blinked. He tensed up even more, waiting for a possible attack or act of horror, what he didn't expect was the smirk that spread on the others face._

_"I knew it." The man said, seemingly pleased with the discovery. "No human could take on twelve demons, and live." _

_This time he was the one blinking. Many questions running through his mind, many he wanted to ask. Well, first things first. "Who are you?" He asked, before moving to push himself up when the other took a seat right besides him, hands were moving to his shirt. _

_"Relax, I'm just making sure you didn't burst the stitches." The man said calmly, bringing his hands back in show of his good intentions, not wanting to start an unwanted fight. _

_He stared into the others eyes intently for a long moment, before seeing the truth in the stormy depts, nodding. He watched the others movements like a hawk, taking in everything. There was silence for a long moment as the other pulled back the tape and gauze, revealing a deep long uneven gash in his side, already starting to heal. _

_"So," The man said, satisfied with the progress of the wound, wrapping it back up. "What do I call you?" _

_He didn't say anything, looking away for a moment, thinking. He didn't know himself, what he was, that sort of thing was left out. The room was quiet for a long moment._

_The man just finished buttoning up his patients shirt and looked at him, noticing the blank lost look on the others face, the confusion in the un-natural sapphire eyes. Not much of a talker then. "Name's Dante, by the way, to answer your previous question." Dante said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He got up, walking over to his desk. "Once your on your feet again, you can go." _

_He looked over at the man 'Dante', seeing him sit back down in his chair dejectingly. It was now obvious to him that the other didn't do stuff like this, bringing people into his home, a lonely strain. He watched the other pick up a magazine, and he felt guilty for some reason. Then there was that smell... he still couldn't place it. It wasn't a bad one, no, far from it, but it was different. His mind came to the realisation that it was coming from Dante, and it wasn't a perfume._

_"What are you?" He asked softly, quietly, like the question was something that shouldn't have been spoken. _

_Dante looked up, slightly surprised, before a content smile crossed his features. He thought for a long moment, looking at the other, lost in those strikingly blue eyes, trying to find the right words. A feeling of some sort of bond made itself known, causing the smile to waver, he didn't know what it was, only that it partly filled the hole inside him. "I'm like you." He said slowly, the tone matching that of the others. "Half human, and half something else that to this day, I still can't quite explain." _

_He was again quiet for a long time, taking in the mans words, and suddenly, he didn't feel so alone in this universe. The man named Dante continued to read, feet again kicked back up on the desk. He swallowed. "Thank you." _

_Dante looked up, smiling this time, "Don't mention it, kid." _

His eyes snapped open, breath hitching as he woke up. An unidentified feeling settling in his stomach.

He'd never been able to regain the memory of his past life as Leon S Kennedy, but then he guessed it was because it wasn't included in the training, and that he never tried. Something that Wesker never focused on, that was never spoken about, and the only thing that was concerned was the future. The name on the tags around his neck was the only thing he went by in the past year, the weight wasn't really comforting, but he found he couldn't part with them, he was holding onto the hope that he'd remember something, anything, before his amnesia.

Tonight was different though.

He heard a voice, one that he recognised as a young girls, she sounded scared, worried, sad. Her words were running through his mind, words that were answered with a voice he knew all to well. His own. Although the conversation was familiar, he never remembered it taking place, never remembered speaking those words of comfort. He blinked, moving a hand to rub away the sleep from his eyes, though the movement caused someone to groan in protest, that someone was beside him, the owner of the arm that was wrapped around his waist, like possession.

He smiled over at the stormy eyes that opened, fixing on his own. The man always knew when he was awake, aways knew when he was troubled. He could'n hide from the half demon, he never could.

Dante tightened his hold around the other, staring again into blue eyes that shone faintly despite the darkness of the room, faint lines of light came through the gaps if the curtains, the moon lightening the darkness gently. "What's wrong?" Dante asked quietly, not wanting to break the stillness of the night.

"I.." He started, unsure of what was wrong himself, or how to even explain it. This was new to him, and it wasn't simple either, this was big, he wasn't sure what to make of it. The silence stretched.

Dante saw the struggle, and that concerned him, this was something new. He brought up his hand, coming to cup to others face, thumb gently soothing. "Hey," Dante said lightly, "Talk to me. Whats wrong?"

He didn't say anything for another moment, but those eyes locked onto his urged him. "I think... I remember something." He said slowly, not too sure what it was he was saying.

"From before...?" Dante asked, pressing. He knows the other had lost his memory, and that remembering anything from his past had never happened, this was a first. Dante waited for a moment whilst his hand continued its calming movement, letting the other gather his thoughts.

He nodded slowly, "A young girls voice...She was scared." He looked at the half demon, continuing. "Something about her parents dyeing.. I was helping her." He wasn't even sure it was a memory, the voices was the only thing, no faces, no image. He could have signed in frustration, he finally got something, but it was so small it felt like nothing, and that he was back to right where he started.

"Is that all you remember..?" Dante asked gently, seeing disappointment flash in blue orbs.

He nodded, signing. Something to wake up for, really nothing.

Dante wrapped his arms around the others shoulders, bringing him in closer and resting his head on the others, staring intently into those eyes. "In time." Dante said softly, simply, watching the doubt that flashed briefly at his words. "Remembering something is a good sign, no matter how small." Dante left no room for argument, sealing his lips on the others gently.

Anymore words and doubts were lost as he returned the kiss in kind, wapping his arms around Dante's chest, the feeling of warmth engulfed him despite the sheets that were gathered at their feet and the cool early dusk air that crept through the windows, the feeling of being with the demon hunter one that he'd missed.

After a moment, he broke away, a sad smile ghosting his face.

"By the way.." Dante started, piercing the other with a knowing look, smirking at the innocence that stared back at him. "Why are there holes in the coat I gave you...?"

_**Again sorry for spelling errors.**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Just something random, has got Sam and Dean in this, so…yeah. **_

_**Enjoy :)**_

CHAPTER 4

The scotch wasn't having the desired effect on him, but he was persistent, and six glasses later, be finally signed, feeling more relaxed as a light weight crept into his mind. He asked for another round, the bar tender simply giving up on trying to tell him that he should stop two glasses ago, and simply nodded, pouring him another.

He picked up the glass, taking a generous sip and keeping to himself as he sat at the far end of the bar, partly shadowed in the corner as he surveyed the room. He liked this place, and despite his own rule of never going to the same area twice where people could recognise you, he kept coming back, never having any from of problem here. The building was small, cozy, and the only stop area within 10 miles in the middle of no where. It added up to a hotel, beds and rooms upstairs, and a small bar and food place down stairs, also a place for drivers to stop for fuel, but other than that it wasn't a shop.

Not many people came here, so the place was never crowded, from his point in the room, he counted at least eleven people, some at the bar, and others seated around tables and talking over a drink or meal.

The area was warmly lit, various candles and a few lamps, a heater in the corner, dark wood lined the walls and floors, rich coffee colours and creams. The odd painting or two. All and all, it was nicely built and comfortable, bringing people into a warm and safe environment.

Nieeve humans were.

His senses picked up on something he was familiar with, like sniffing out a rotten egg amongst the bunch. He caught the scent as soon as he stepped in the room, and has been quietly observing from a distance since then, watching and wondering just what this creature was doing here, and why.

A low faint rumble through the ground alerted him of a vehicle pulling up from out side, it seemed this place was looking in for more customers.

It wasn't long after when he was eyeing the figure seated at one of the tables when the doors opened to the bar, the cool breeze being cut off when it closed as two men stepped in, glancing around briefly before making their way to the bar. A quick careless glance on his part told him they were tall, leather jackets and denim jeans, dark hair and rather handsome looking, eyes guarded and yet unguarded at the same time, looking curious. They must be new to this place, then. His senses confirmed they were good, before he re-directed his attention back to his interest, eyes down cast on his drink as he listened.

_He hissed as another dart hit him in the shoulder, the sting a clear sign that he'd miss heard, that he'd failed yet again. He resisted the urge to rip the blind fold off and walking away, but knew he wouldn't get anymore than a few feet before Wesker stopped him. This was pointless, he didn't get why he was being trained in this, wasn't it supposed to be about the mental side of his recovery? _

_"This is bullshit." He said in pure annoyance, making sure the other could hear him, he could almost hear the smirk in the others voice._

_"I won't accept failure. Again." Wesker said smoothly, making it clear that he wasn't leaving until he had some results. _

_"Why this? It's got nothing to do with my amnesia." He argued, his lack of sight irritating him, he could feel the mans eyes fixed on him. _

_"This training comes in two parts. Your previous life before your memory loss, and your new life as it is now. You must learn to accept what you are today, learn how to use it, how to bend it to your will." Wesker spoke with authority, words cutting through like knives, leaving no room for argument. "Learn how to see your surroundings using your senses and not your eyes, learn to predict movement and speed, taking apart what you want to hear and what you don't. Learn to dodge blindly, and you will succeed." He stopped, letting the words sink in, before stating firmly. "So. Again."_

_He signed, taking the mental step back of protesting, and he accepted the situation. He again fixed his senses, sweat beaded on his head as he forced himself to focus, to see with out his eyes. He could hear breathing, both his own and the others. He could hear the faint hum of various machines around the room, the quiet buzzing of the lights, the sound of hearts beating, the small click as the pin released and a dart sped through the chamber of one of the guns aimed at him, cutting through air... _

_In that split second, he put all his focus directed to the projectile, and this time. He saw it._

He was glad for the semi darkness that cloaked his seat, and for the ignorance of human beings, he'd learnt how to keep himself under, the intensity of his eyes were dulled so that no one would really notice the unnatural orbs unless they looked closely. Though he didn't take any chances, keeping very minimal eye contact and the hair covering his right eye, avoiding any connections and situations. Usually one would take one look at him and walk away, he guessed he looked rather intimidating, not to mention the vibe he sent of, one that Dante told him to lay back sometimes when ever they'd have company. Scared some away.

So when someone does approach him, he often wonders if their very brave, or just plain stupid.

"Hey, how's it goin'?"

He glanced up ever so briefly, seeing the shorter of the two who just came in earlier, beer in hand, sitting a little ways away. He didn't answer, taking another sip of his scotch, his seventh glass now half empty, hoping the man will take the hint. Soon he guessed, that the man either didn't, or didn't care.

"You know," The man said, walking over and coming to sit a stool away from him. The man smiled goofily. "You look like some bad ass Matrix guy with that outfit-"

"Dude-" The taller one rolled his eyes, signing at his brother, still standing.

"What?" The other protested, shrugging. "Just trying to strike a conversation, you know what talking to 'Cas is like? _Boring_." The man pointed out, taking a long drink of his beer, continuing. "No, really, I need to talk to someone normal for a change."

"Then try him." He nodded absently to a guy sitting further up the bar, near the door. If these boys were looking for a laugh over some drinks to someone 'normal', then their looking at the wrong person. He didn't make any eye contact, keeping half his gaze focused on the one he was observing across the room, hoping that the other would take his advice. No luck on his part.

"What my brother is trying to say," The taller one said, finally sitting down. "Is that we're trying to find a place known as Lilly's Lounge."

Damn. Maybe this wasn't his night for luck after all. He guessed he could lie and say no, but they'd probably figure it out anyway. "Your in it." He said dully, answering the taller one. How very human of him. Huh.

"Oh, thats good then, at least we're not lost." The taller man said, shooting a glare at his brother, the look passing unheeded.

"We're new around here, travellers, you know, sight seeing." The older one said, completely ignoring the lack of conversation from the other. "I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam." Dean clapped a hand on his brothers shoulder, then proceeded to look around the room. "Not many women here," He remarked, disappointed, before smiling a lop sided grin at the bar tender. "Apart from this gorgeous lady, hey honey."

She smiled at him politely, before walking to the other side of the bar, handing out more drinks.

He could have smirked.

"You come here often?" Dean said, yet again fixing his attention.

"No." He retorted, like a rehearsed play, eyeing his target across the room as the person got up from their seat, pausing to look his way, eyes lingered on him for a moment, before turning to the brothers. He could have sworn he saw anger and recognisation flash through the creatures face before they turned sharply, heading for the door.

Dean could see that the other wasn't one for company, but there was something off about him, he couldn't place it. When he first saw the black clad figure sitting in the corner as he talked up the bar tender for a drink, an alarm sounded in his mind, that something wasn't quite... normal about this one. When they got a tip that something wasn't right in this area, he wasn't sure what it was exactly that they were looking for, only that a few sights of murders have been reported, about some sort of animal.

After some research on the crimes, they'd narrowed it down to the possibility of a werewolf. So they were looking for someone, if their suspect didn't conversed and wanted to blend in with the rest of society, on their own, someone who isolated them selves from a distance, who kept to themselves, very minimal contact.

This man fitted their description, though Dean wouldn't do anything until he was certain.

The nameless man avoided eye contact as Dean stared, taking in every detail. The long leather coat he wore had mended holes located on the left shoulder, four in total lined up, like a small pitch fork had been run through, and similar markings, holes that hadn't been fixed, decorated the glove on the right hand. Two in total that weren't part of the fashion. His face was partly hidden, but Dean could see a scar that marked the mans lip, running down the right side and about an inch long, also, If he looked very closely, there was something... off about his eyes.

He could feel the others eyes on him, burning into him, accusing, suspicious, eyes that were searching, and knew what they were looking for. A warning crept up his spine, he watched his target leave, and downing the rest of his scotch in one go, he too decided it was time to go. He had work to do, after all.

Dean frowned, but keeping his tone light. "Where are you goin'?"

He stepped lightly around them as he moved past. "Sight seeing." He retorted, throwing the others previous words back at the brothers. He left no room for any other comment as he walked briskly to the door, leaving a tip on the bar counter for the tender.

He stepped out into the cool night and signed, feeling comfortable now that eyes weren't watching him like a criminal, he guessed they were right, but that didn't make him feel any better. He walked calmly around behind the building and into the forrest, easily following his targets scent and trail.

His breath fogged as he walked, pulling at the collar of his coat to keep the nights air at bay, despite it actually doing nothing to warm him, but he tried anyway. Small comforts.

Booted feet treaded lightly, making no sound as he walked, he summed up that he was now twenty minutes walk from the bar, the scent leading him on through the trees which were thickening. He wasn't worried, he'd hunted werewolves before, but kept his guard up non the less, he can afford no mistakes. It was vital to him that humanity kept their ignorance, that they didn't know of the true horrors of this world, not like what he knows. That alone gave him a sense of purpose, a goal in this new life, helps him regain the small side of him that was still human. Helps him sleep at night.

The smell strengthened, alerting him that he was close, very close. Booted feet stopped as he stood there in silence, closing his eyes and breathing in calmly.

He could map out the forrest like a map in his head, see it through closed eyes, like a radar for any sign of movement, tracking, counting time, distance, and speed.

He smirked, opening his eyes.

"I'm surprised, I though it was the Winchesters who were following me." A deep voice commented. "Instead, I get a puppy. How cute."

He was completely relaxed when a figure stepped out of the dense woods, becoming visible in his sights, stopping a few meters directly of him. Messy black hair framed a strong face, four sharp teeth showing in the predatory smile, yellow eyes, bright with intensity, gave him a look over, clawed arched fingers coming up to scratch behind a ear.

"Who do I owe the pleasure of dining with tonight?" The werewolf asked hungrily, examining the black clad man in his sights, intrigued at the others bravery and apparent calm demeanour. The man had obviously faced things like this before, so he will be treated with extra caution.

He continued to smirk lightly, like a friend to friend encounter, though he didn't introduce himself, instead he arched a brow. "Winchesters?"

"Yeah," The werewolf continued. "The boys back at the bar who were pestering you. Just didn't get the hint, did they?" The man smiled, amused.

"So you know them." It wasn't a question, he eyed the other seemingly care free.

"I wouldn't put it that way.. but yes, in a sense." The man said, walking slowly, casually around the clearing, eyeing him like something for show. "So what brings you here, in this lovely part of the country?" The man asked, but not directly, rather, a question that was left in the open. The werewolf brought a clawed finger to his lips in thought whilst circling the other. "Work?"

"I'm for hire." He said, although he couldn't actually see the werewolf as the man walked behind him, didn't mean he lost sight of the man.

"Ah," Came the mans exclamation. "Mercenary then, Assassin? Whats your game?"

Hot breath brushed his ear, though it didn't unsettle his control. "That depends." He said, tilting his head slightly to where the other was standing right behind him. "-On what brings you here." A hand with claws ghosted across his shoulders as the man stepped around him, coming to stand in front, yellow eyes holding his own.

"Your different from other humans... Whats your name..?" The werewolf enquired, curious, something on the tip of his tongue.

He smiled somewhat mysteriously, letting his hold on containment of his other half go, letting the un-natural blue bleed into his eyes, the white in the pupils returning. "Whats yours?"

A deep throaty laugh sounded from the werewolf, the man grinned, taking a step back, nodding, before pointing at the other briefly. "You look familiar. Let me see... where have I seen you before." The man started pacing in front of the other, a show of looking in deep thought. "Ah, yes. Now I remember, there was a rather interesting article a few weeks ago, dirty blond hair, blue eyes," He made a motion of ticking down the list with his fingers. "-scar on the bottom lip." Yellow eyes looked at the man in question. Smiling with a brow arched. "Matches your description, does it?"

He shrugged carelessly, returning the smile despite the feeling in his stomach.

The werewolf laughed in success. "Leon S Kennedy... reported dead about four weeks ago, yeah, you were high up with the Government, got yourself an honour with the President himself. You were something of a missing person's case, disappeared a year prior."

He kept his face carefully in check as the man told him the things in the article, things he didn't know, things about him before his amnesia, the life he lived. The possibility of finding it, that it was still out there, made him want to forgo everything else currently and head for it. Pity he'd have to kill the man now.

He began his move, the game he'd set out to complete, eyeing the other, smile wavering. "I don't know your name, or who you are." He said, seeing the other shrug. "But I know what you are, and what you've done. Eight found murders and reports of sixteen people missing in this area within a Ten mile radius. Local authorities reported that they'd been killed by a wild animal, they think its a bear. Though others..." He continued to stare at the other man who was now pacing restlessly, "Believe its some kind of monster, witness reports all say the same thing, even one photo was brought in." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small square piece of paper, holding it up for the other to see. "Authorities passed it off as a fake, but does that not look familiar to you?"

The other man stepped forward, taking to picture and after a moment of staring into the others eyes, before glancing down. The picture was dark, pixelated, but it clearly showed a figure in the darkness, the shadow resembling something sort of a very large wolf. He smirked, dropping the picture and letting it fall, yellow eyes glowing. "Alright, you got me." The werewolf said, now eyeing the other more carefully, guarded.

"So.." He started, adjusting his coat for a moment. "This can only end one way." He smiled politely at the werewolf, dipping his head and looking at the other and his opponent.

The man did the same, a throaty rumble sounding in his throat which sounded like a mocking laugh. "Stakes?"

He shrugged, the careless movement followed by a smirk. "Fight to the death."

Now openly laughing, the werewolf nodded, eyeing the other amusingly, before adding hungrily. "And if I win, your my dinner for the night."

He laughed as well, not in the slightest worried. "Fare enough."

Game on.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Don't worry guys, our crazy supernatural boys are still here ;)**_

_**Remember ratings for this story, M for blood and violence, language and imagery, has slash as well M/M pairing. **_

_**Remember the unhappy face.**_

_**:(**_

_**Past that? Lets continue :)**_

_**Note: **__Italicise__** text is usually past, And normal **_Italicise_** text is present. Bolded text is thoughts, and yeah, I think that covers it. :)**_

CHAPTER 5

_He didn't know where he was when he woke up, all he knew, or what he thought he knew, was that he was no longer in the facility under the wing of Wesker. Unlike the pure white corridors and halls of what he came to call home, was replaced with the old brick and wooden walls and floors of the square room that he found himself waking up in._

_The question of how, who and why dotted in his hazy head. How did these people, assuming the who part, take him from point A. The facility where he was recovering from his amnesia, to point B. This unknown location he was currently in, and have him not remember anything in between? Heh, maybe his condition, the _normal_ side of it, was worse of that what both he and the doctors thought. Second point, who would kidnap him anyway? Did they know who he was, or did they have some kind of score to settle with Leon S Kennedy prior his injury? More importantly, did they know who Wesker was? That man, or what ever he was, had quite a threatening reputation, something he learnt very, _very_ quickly with his time in the facility, if the other occupants of the area didn't discreetly shit their pants every time the man stepped in the room._

_Last point, why? Why in the hell would someone want him for? _

_Oh, bonus point, what was this? The scenery made him want to laugh dryly in sick amusement with a little bitterness for good measure, really. His hands were suspended above him, stretched out either side and up, the shackles secured around his wrists and chains attached though rings in the ceiling. His feet were bare and left unbound, he was still wearing the same cloths he did before the blank in his memory, though his shirt was no where in sight._

_He shivered, feeling freezing, never really got used to the constant cold that cloaked him since he first woke up those two months ago. _

_The door opened, averting his attention as a few figures walked into the only entry and exit point to the windowless room. _

_There were four in total, one of them stayed by the door, and other two took a position to either side of him, though out of his reach. The last one walked up to stand in front of him, the black beanie covering the others identity as well as the other three. The man stood there for a long moment, visible eyes staring into his own sapphire._

_He resisted the urge to demand answers, but put that aside, clear to him that these people weren't a least bit surprised or shocked at his un-natural gaze. They know him, then, and what he was._

_The silence and stare battle continued, both keeping their emotions in check, something akin to a poker game involving lots of cash, players and cards, motives, and oh the occasional hand straying to a concealed weapon every often should _something_ go side ways. _

_"So.." The man finally spoke, breaking the silence with a deep somewhat shadowed husky voice. "This is the cop everyone's been talking about." _

_He tilted his head slightly to the side, hiding his confusion. "I'm no cop." He spoke slowly, thinking as the other continued to stare at him. Since when did he become a cop?_

_The man didn't even twitch, passing a glance to one of the others standing in the room before the emotionless gaze locked back to him. "You lead me on a rather tiring chase... I admire your skill, no one has been able to escape me before." The man laughed, something that could be seen reflecting in the cruel eyes. "Looks like its going to stay that way." The man mocked, gesturing to the restraints keeping him prisoner. _

_"Who are you?" He asked, purely out of fact that he didn't recognise this man at all. _

_"Well I guess its only... polite, strange word these days." the man said is a bored fashion. "But seeing how I know you, I'll introduce myself. They call me Hunk."_

_"So not 'Hulk' then? Or would you prefer '_The_ Hulk'?" He said, that was a quirk he was rather fond of, irritation and pissing of the opposition. "Name's don't mean anything to me." Simply because he didn't have a picture to match them too. The name that the man provided him with didn't ring any bells, so any minute now, with the things he's seen, he wouldn't be too surprised if the man turned green. _

_Surprisingly no form of punishment for his words were dealt, only the sound of the man laughing, actually laughing, like this was some sort of comedy show. "I'm sure they do." The man replied, the smile that shone through dark eyes vanished, replaced with yet the calm and piercing demeanour. "Name's are so valuable..." Hunk took a step forward, voice dipping down to meaning. "So tell me.. where is the girl?" _

_He blinked, this time allowing the confusion to sweep briefly across his features. "What girl?" _

_"Don't play dumb with me, cop. She was with you when you left the city. Now where is she?" The mans voice grew threatening._

_He closed his eyes ever so briefly, trying to remember something about a girl, though nothing came to mind. "I don't know what your talking about, what girl?" He asked again, seeing the anger that was starting to flame through the others cold eyes._

_"You will learn, very.. painfully, that lying to me is not an option."_

_He stopped himself short of swallowing dryly, before stating firmly, "I don't remember any girl." Or any city for that matter, but he didn't say that. The feeling in his gut as he looked at the other told him that this wasn't going to end well. _

_Hunk looked at him silently for a short moment, staring into those tired and confused eyes, though anger shone through the blue depts. He lifted a hand and motioned to the two men beside the prisoner and nodded once, just once. The cards were set, it was time for him to deal out the game. _

_He tensed as the men came forward, his hands fisting in the restraints as blue eyes locked defiantly to that of Hunks. "I don't remember." He said lastly, trying to get the point through, to have some sort of ground to stand on for what he knew was coming._

_"After I'm through with you," Hunk said, "You'll remember everything."_

"C'mon, matrix dude, wake up."

"I think he's still out of it."

"Really? Didn't notice."

"You shot him too many times, you'd be lucky if he wakes up at all."

"With a _tranquilliser_, I wasted four darts on him, four! It should only and ever take _one_!"

"He's not human, you saw him kill the werewolf."

"No shit! But these things always work on werewolves, which are not human."

"But he's no wolf either, so what is he? A demon?"

"Hell if I know."

He couldn't prevent the groan that sounded as he came to, the pounding echoing in his head a common feeling, something that was more intense than the normal head ache due to being knocked out, he guessed it was what ever that was in the many darts that the Winchesters shot him with. His focus was solely on the werewolf that he killed before being painfully redirected when a dart hit the back of his neck, which was followed by three more when he didn't go down as quick as expected.

The pounding grew as he pried open his eyes open, the sight that greeted him caused him to sigh in utter defeat and wish he was still unconscious.

The brothers stood in front of him, side by side, Sam looked like one for business, standing their calmly and patiently. Dean on the other hand, looked bored and inpatient, arms crossed and stared at him with a cocky demeanour.

He blinked away the grogginess from his eyes, shifting his blurry vision to glance between the two, wincing slightly at the ache from where the darts had been, moving his neck hurt, just another added extension to the pain blaring in his temples and behind his eyes. The room was lit with a few lamps and candles here and there, and he recognised the enclosure immediately. They were in a hotel room of Lilly's Lounge. He could have kicked himself at his choice to tell these guys that they were at the right place, and now it seems, at the wrong time.

Same old scenario, he was bound to a chair in the middle of the room, coat and weapons were gone which he discovered a second later were on a table at the other end of the room. Though there was something he found rather strange, and yet utterly amusing at the same time. White paint drew his attention to the floor around him, which was painted in a star symbol where he was currently sitting, like some sort of boundary. He almost laughed, looks like he found himself in the company of demon hunters. **And guess which side your on?** He thought to himself bitterly. He wasn't in the mood for this shit.

"Hey, how's it goin'?" Dean asked when his unnatural eyes fixed on the man in front of him.

"Whats this about?" He demanded, fixing a annoyed glare at the brothers.

"You don't know?" Dean shrugged, before taking a mirror from one of the tables and walking to stand right in front of him, showing him the mirror.

He glared at the taller man, not sparing a glance at his reflection. "Yeah, I know what I look like." He snapped, "What do you want?"

Dean put the mirror down before dragging a chair to sit in, coming to sit just outside the circle. "We just want to talk, you know, like civilised beings." Smiling, Dean looked at him.

"We saw what you did," Sam cut in, taking a step closer so he too was just outside the circle. "Your not human, and not being human puts you in our job description." The younger brother said. "So was it you who is killing all these people? The werewolf? Or both?"

"If I was working with that beast, then why would I kill him?" He said irritably, flexing his wrists briefly behind him and holding back a smirk. Handcuffs, like the type that cops use, though to him, it was child's play, and these boys were no cops.

"You tell me." Sam said, shrugging. "Maybe you had a disagreement?"

He ignored the question, "Your hunters right? Caught wind of what was happening here, came to investigate, and naturalise the threat." He looked at them for a moment, "Then we have something in common. I'm here the same reason you are, tracking down the creature responsible."

Dean didn't take any of it. "Demons don't hunt for the good." He said, "There all the same, jackasses, cowards and moronic dicks."

He smirked at the words. "You make it sound like you got screwed by them." His grin widened, "Looks like its your lucky day. I'm no demon."

"Then what are you?" Sam asked, raising a brow in interest at what the other would say, though was mildly surprised when the smirk melted from the others face, being replaced by a distant and somewhat lost look, and was that a hint of sadness in those unnatural eyes?

"I'v been asking myself that question for a while now." He admitted, eyeing the strange symbols and dejectingly wondering if they'd indeed work on him, the ache in his heart reminding him that he is no longer part of this world, reminding him that he's alone in this. The empty space growing ever larger in his chest, and he was fearful of what may be filling it.

"So what happened?" Dean asked, "You got bored of being normal?"

His fists clenched in anger as he looked at the older brother, eyes shimmering in fury. "You think I chose this?" He demanded, leaning forward as much as the chair and bonds would allow him, glaring at the other seated in front of him. "You saw what I did, what makes you think... that anyone is protecting you from _me_ right now? Because I hope, for your sake, that these-" He motioned to the symbols around him, separating him from them. "-actually work." He continued to fix his glare, before adding confidently, "Because when they don't, _you'd_ better hope to stay out of my way, then I'm gone."

Despite what was said, Dean simply smiled. "So whats stopping you?"

He sat back, taking a moment to calm the fire in his nerves, before smiling slyly. "Information." He nodded at another table, which was decorated by a laptop he knew wasn't part of the decor. "I want you to search something for me."

Sam looked puzzled for a moment, looking at to where the other was directing, before understanding, walking over to the laptop.

Dean shrugged. "And why would we do that?"

"You want to know who I am?" He simply asked. "Search the name, Leon S Kennedy."

Dean frowned for a second, before looking behind him to Sam who had started typing, the sound of the keys and clicks the only thing piercing the now quiet room. Not too long, and all too soon.

"Uh.. Dean, you might want to look at this." Came Sam's voice.

Dean eyed the other man for a moment longer, only the blank face and unreadable eyes didn't show anything. Dean stood up, eyeing him before walking over to where Sam was seated in front of the computer, the light of the computer casting a eery glow across the younger brothers face, and that too of Dean as he lent in to read what the screen told them of the name of Leon S Kennedy.

_"This will be allot painless, if you tell me what I want to know."_

_He hung by his wrists, only kept upright by the chains attached to the ceiling as he breathed heavily and unevenly. The shackles had cut into the flesh of his wrists causing blood to seep from the incisions and run is small rivets down his arms, coming to mingle with the sheen of sweat that coated his upper body. _

_It had been just over six hours since he woke up in his prison, just over six hours when questions invaded his mind, questions of the where about's of a girl that was said to be under his charge, a girl he never remembered saving in a city he doesn't remember living in. Just over six hours, and this Hunk hadn't left, hadn't stopped the torture for answers he didn't have. _

_"Where is the girl."_

_"I- I don't -know." He couldn't stop the shaking of his voice, or the trembling in his muscles, his head was hanging with the weight of the fact that he didn't have enough strength to keep upright under his own power. Strands of dirty blond hair framed his face and sticking to the sweat that beaded. Drying blood covered his chin and down to his throat from a deep knife cut on his lip, the action of talking, or forming any movement or sound would cause the wound to re-open, and more blood would run forth. Various sorts of other wounds covered his chest, shoulders and back, though mostly all bruising and shallow cuts. _

_Though the real pain wasn't coming from those injuries._

_Searing hot pain flared through out his body as electricity coursed, forcing him to cry out in agony as his body reacted seemingly of its own accord, jerking and pulling at his restraints that caused more blood to run down his arms. Pain traveled like fire through his limbs, sharp needles and pins stabbing in his nerves as he struggled, and too quickly the air was taken from his lungs leaving him gasping for the oxygen that was out of his reach, unable to draw in any breath due to the cramping of his muscles. _

_A few short yet agonisingly long seconds went by before the power was cut, leaving him again hanging in his restraints, desperately breathing in the air he'd lost and inevitably causing broken ribs to shift in his chest, the result of the beating he'd taken by the other two men in the room. _

_"Sherry Birkin, daughter of William and Annette Birkin." Came the demanding voice of Hunk again._

_He swallowed dryly, trying to moisten his parched and sore throat, the voice of his captor rang in his ears, seemingly allot louder that what it should be._

_"You and another survivor of Raccoon City, Claire Redfield, took the girl who is infected."_

_"I Don't.. remember." He gasped out in vain attempt, the truth of his words was what the other wasn't buying. He'd been picking at his brain for the past six hours for anything to help him remember, anything to stop the pain, to convince Hunk that he didn't know any of the names of the people, of these survivors, of the story about this city._

_"Raise the volts."_

_If he had the strength to fight, he would have, the inner voice told him to take it, that he could take it, but even he had his limits. "...no-" Searing pain again coursed through him, cutting off anything he might have said, and it felt like a hand had clamped around his throat, allowing only enough air through for small gasped cries, the lack of oxygen along with the agony left him trapped, hazy patterns danced behind his tightly closed eye lids, a roaring sounded in his ears, like being under water whilst a thunder storm raged. When it finally ended, he hung in the void, between reality and unconsciousness. He wished it was the later. _

_He was still in the room, could still feel the cool of the shackles, a tickling sensation of blood running down his chin, the hand that clasped the side of his face and pulled his head up even though he couldn't see anything beyond eye's that refused to open. A thumb coming to rub away at the tears he didn't know escaped. He knew it was Hunk. _

_"Everyone has a breaking point, Agent Kennedy, and we've found yours."_

_**Again sorry about any spelling errors. **_

_**R&R.**_


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

~Thunder... is just the sound of lightning.

"Leon 'Scott' Kennedy, born 1977, killed in action 2014. Former police officer in 1998 Raccoon City Police Department, joined the US Secret Service in 1999."

He listened to what the younger brother was reading from the page on the screen, paying attention to every single detail whilst keeping his face clear of any thoughts. He watched as Sam stopped with a frown.

"The rest are marked: Classified." Sam said, glancing at him from across the room, bewildered. This can't be possible... This man is supposed to be dead.

Dean didn't have any patience. "Well, un-classify it." He nudged his brother, earning a glare.

Sam looked back at this 'Leon', who he immediately identified by the picture attached the the file on the computer, before continuing, bringing up the classified files, the system already being hacked by their computer system. "Survivor of the Raccoon City Incident in 1998 where a viral outbreak called the T-Virus was released by a company known as the Umbrella Corporation, Leon was rescued by the Government along with Sherry Birkin who was infected, but treated with the Anti-Bodies, the city was destroyed by the military a short time after."

"Year 2002, went on a mission to South America, operation: Javier. An outbreak had started in Mixcoatl, target was Javier Hildalgo, a drug lord who had connections to Umbrella. Javier had infected his daughter Manuela Hildalgo with T-Veronica trying to cure her from the T-Virus, which Hilda Hildalgo had died from 10 years prior. Operatives were Leon kennedy and Jack Krauser who worked for the US SOCOM, though was injured in the mission and discharged from the military, reported 2 years later to have been killed in a accident."

"Year 2004, sent to Europe alone to rescue the Presidents daughter, Ashley Graham, reports that she was sighted in a town, which later turned out to be the home of a cult known as Los Illuminados, and Osmund Saddler. Another outbreak had began, known as 'Plagas', a parasite that attached to the nervous system and controlling the host. Other operatives were also sighted, a spy named Ada Wong, survivor of Raccoon City, and former military Jack Krauser, both rumored to work for Albert Wesker. Full details in: The Kennedy Report."

He shook his head momentarily, he could faintly, ever faintly, hear whispers, words being spoken that weren't what Sam was reading. _So it is true. True? About what? You, working with Wesker. Been a long time, comrade. I'm looking for my brother, Chris. Keep still, -I'v got to remove the bullet. _He closed his eyes in a wince as the head ache flared angrily, and there was a strange dull pain coming from his left shoulder, but he re-opened his eyes quickly to not rouse suspicion, straining to keep calm.

"2005, there was an outbreak of the G-Virus and T-Virus at Harvardille Airport, in which a company known as WilPharma was involved, who embarked a top secret project to develop a vaccine for the T-Virus, head researcher Fredric Downing, former Umbrella researcher back in 1998, was behind the attack along with Curtis Miller, and believed to have connections to Albert Wesker. Raccoon City survivor Claire Redfeild was also at the airport at that time, who works for Terra-Save."

_If you don't try to save one life, you'll never save any. You chose a path your brother and I couldn't follow. You chose to become a protector, rather than a fighter like me. You weren't wrong._

"Year 2009, rumours spreaded that Bio Organic Weapons also known as B.O.W.s were being used in a war in Eastern Slav Republic. Later is was discovered that Svetlana Belikova, the first female President, was behind the construction of a hidden lab in an underground nuclear shelter underneath the President estate, where the growth of 'Plagas' were stored, along with T-100s, also known as Tyrants which were back in Raccoon City. Spy Ada Wong was also there posing as a BSAA Agent, which later the BSAA issued a international warrant, though her were about's after were unknown."

_It's been a long time, Leon. In the end, nothing's really changed. They've been keeping an eye on me the whole time._

"Year 2013, Another outbreak, resulting in President Benford's death, and killing over 70,000 people in Tall Oaks, later confirmed Derek C Simmons, the National Security Advisor was behind the attack. Other operatives fighting the attack were U.S Agent Helena Harper, BSAA Chris Redield, Piers Nivans, U.S Agent Sherry Birkin, mercenary and host of the anti-bodies Jake Muller - son of Albert Wesker who was killed 3 years prior. Including spy Ada Wong, and Carla Radames who leaded Neo-Umbrella."

_You look like you've seen a ghost. I lost all me men because of her! Its all my fault. I- I did this. So whats the plan, hero? I'm going to tell them every thing, everything we know about the Raccoon City Incident. I'v always valued you friendship, Leon. _

The head ache was growing, the sharp pounding and the flashes in his vision that were in time with his heart beat, told him that it was a full mind grain now. Sweat was beading on his brow as the whispers repeated themselves, he didn't understand though, this information that was being read to him still didn't sound familure...

"Year 2014..." There was along pause as Sam stared at the screen in confusion, clicking and scrolling. "That's odd... there's no file."

Dean huffed in annoyance, coming to look closer at the screen too. "What do you mean, theres no file? And I was starting to enjoy this story." He retorted.

Sam shrugged, utterly confused. "There is a log that says somethings there, but the file itself in missing." He paused. "There's a memorial log posted by the government, but the other file has been... erased. Someone's deleted it from the system."

Dean frowned. "Isn't that supposed to be impossible?"

Sam nodded dully, "Yeah..." He clicked on the other file absently. "Memorial for a Hero... Leon S Kennedy, born 1977, killed in action 2014.. The US Governments most respected and top agent, fighter against Bio-Terrorism and crime." Sam looked at Dean, who looked at the supposedly 'dead' Government agent in their hotel room.

His hands were twisting in the cuffs in discomfort as the ache raged on, though the bright flashes were duller now, and the whispers were fading. He guessed he had the thanks to the brothers who stopped reading out 'his' life story, though he wondered if he had some sort of twin out there, because he still doesn't remember doing any of those things, or meeting any of those people.

"Great history lesson," Dean said casually, coming back to sit in front of the 'Agent', skipping the thought of what the other looked like at that moment. "So what? Your on our side? You think that we'll let you go?" Dean frowned when he didn't get a response, and clicked his fingers in the others face. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me."

He flinched slightly at the sound, snapping his eyes open in annoyance and fixing a slightly pained, tired glare to the older brother. "It doesn't require that information, for me to break out of here." He stated, glad that his breathing was under control, and the only thing that would give away his earlier struggle would be the slight beaded sweat that coated his forehead, something he was glad that the others hadn't picked up on, or if they had, they didn't ask.

Dean looked bored again. "Then why would you tell us to search for information that you already know, if not to persuade us that your the good guy?"

Sam came over too after trying to find that missing file, though with no luck. He looked at the man, who was strangely quiet at Deans question for a long moment.

He watched them quietly, everything about them was for the good, they were fighters, just like he was, against the evils that this world had kindled. They were good men, so he had nothing to fight them for, nothing to kill them for. They were just doing what they believed was right, what _is_ right, the same that he does.

"I didn't do it for you..." He said quietly, the ache in his temples dying down along with his frustration, his anger, leaving a irritable dull throbbing. "I did it for me."

Dean looked again bewildered, frowning at him. The older brother was about to call bullshit when Sam spoke up in realisation, well, more of a theory.

"You lost your memory...?"

**Ok, maybe they aren't as thick as I thought they were. **He thought, rather impressed at the younger brother as he looked at Sam, silent for a second longer before simply nodding.

"So... I'm missing the part where we _don't_ kill you." Dean said good naturally, despite the fact that he was mildly serious, considering the things they'd been through. No creature could be trusted. Dean's answer was a irritable glare. "So what are we talkin' about here, you lost your memory? So how does that explain..." Dean feebly motioned at the bound man, a hand gesturing and shoulders shrugging. "..uh.. _what_ you are?"

He didn't know why he continued to stay here, he could have escaped the moment he woke up. "I don't know, only that It happened in 2014."

"So you don't remember anything?" Sam asked, more politely than what his brother would have.

He looked at Sam, seeing the pity, and loathing it. "I didn't even remember my own name."

_Beep... Beep... Beep..._

_He didn't know what it was, only that it was as irritating as all hell, the darkness surrounded him, the feeling of his limbs seemed abandoned._

_Beep... Beep... Beep.._

_He laid there for a long time, if he could even call it that, and it took even longer for him to register that he felt warm, well, warmer than the normal cold that gripped him. A spark flared in his brain, the tiny flare traveling down his spine, down his arm, and to his fingers... he could move his fingers, he could feel them. His toes came next, the small bones seeming to move like ice in the new week of spring, it felt good. _

_He was laying on something soft, which surprised him, he expected the feeling of cold cement..._

_Beep.. Beep.. Beep._

_The memory hit him like the first shock of an explosion, reality came with the next wave, causing him to fight with the void, the darkness retreated, and the water was drained from the tub. He woke up._

_Blinding, white light stunned his eyes, but he forced them to remain open, hands clenching in a suspected attack, to fight. White... room, clean horrible white, and as much as he hated it, it brough a sence of familiarity to him. The source of the beeping caught his attention, he looked to find a heart monitor, following the cord and coming to see it pegged on his finger, as well as bandages around his wrists, where a few tubes were attached to. Why was he in a hospital? Last thing he remembered was blacking out due to the pain that Hunk had put him through. _

_He felt the tightened wrap that was around his ribs, the tape that was holding his lip together, the feeling of icy liquid being injected into his veins by the tubes. His blurred vision spotted something dark against the white... something.. someone tall, and dark._

_"Al..bert?" His throat restricting any form of sound, but it sounded good enough for the message. He didn't know why he suspected it was the other man that was there, but the feeling of being home remained._

_The dark blur moved closer until the figure sat down in a white chair he didn't see, he guessed it was because it blended in with his surroundings. He attempted to move, to find some ground, it was his stubbornness answering, he hated being in a hospital bed. Though the man stopped him with a simple hand on his shoulder, and he got the message. Bad idea. _

_Finally__, the eery silence was broken, and along with the tension. "How are you feeling?" Wesker's voice seemed to fill the entire room. _

_He signed, relaxing fully into the mattress and blinking away the unconscious sleep from his eyes, gaze finally sharpening and focusing on the dark shades of the other. "..Like shit." He mumbled, again swallowing dryly to clear his parched throat. "How... How'd you get me out?" He asked, trying to keep speech as minimal as possible. He'd assumed the reason why he was here, was the rescue. _

_"I didn't."_

_He stared at the other in confusion, though the dark shades gave nothing away. "Who did..?" _

_Silence, then, "Hunk."_

_He blinked, shaking his head in denial. Why would his captor, the man who went through all the trouble to kidnap him, torture him for information which he didn't get, then save him? It didn't make sence. "I don't understand.." _

_Wesker stood up, hands clasped behind his back as he slowly walked around the room idly. "Hunk is my agent, team leader of the Secret Service. He along with his team captured you three days ago, they know you from your previous life. Asking you questions they already knew the answers to, they wanted to see if you knew them. The operation turned out to be.. a failure. Your brain's activity didn't spark, even under the pressure and the pain, you couldn't remember."_

_He painfully pushed himself up with his elbows as the other continued to talk, a feeling creeping under his skin, a feeling he didn't like. "What are you saying?" _

_Wesker turned to face him, not the slightest disturbed by the look on the others face. "It was a test, Leon." Wesker watched as the other thought for a moment, trying to put things together. "We wanted to see how you'd react under that situation, if you could remember by force." There was anger on the others face, and Wesker held back a smirk. "It was for your health, and part of your training."_

_"My health?" He scoffed, now sitting up fully with a hand wrapped around his ribs, glaring disbelieving at the dark figure. "How is torture a part of my health? You said you'd help me regain my memory, instead, you throw me in this bullshit training, dodging bullets and fighting blind, using this... other side of me that's a monster. Why should I trust you? You haven't given me any reason to." He was pissed, the man had since he woke up always said that everything he was doing was for training, for health. Bullshit._

_Wesker was quiet for a long moment, his face was emotionless and eyes masked by the darkness of the shades. Though you could tell the man was thinking, he was always thinking, always had an ace up his sleeve, a alternative, always a plan in motion. Finally, he spoke. "Your right, I haven't given you a reason to trust me. All I'v done is given you a name which might not even be yours, brought you back to health only to toy with it, put you through training, teaching you, watching you, for my own agender. The truth is, I'v been watching you for a long time, I know where you've been, the people you've met, the things you've experienced. I know how you got there, where you came from. You've been living the life of a chess piece, to be moved at the will of your Government, people who don't care whether you live or die."_

_He was quiet whilst the dark figure spoke, wondering how the man knew all this. So maybe he was with the Government, but that past history, it didn't mean anything to him anymore. _

_"They sent you in alone, down a one way street, you were just another acceptable loss to them. Though what they hadn't counted on, was you living. During the Op you were infected by a new form of virus, their experiment. You are the only one to ever have survived the virus, and with it, the being you are now. The virus adapted as your body fought it, the casualty was your memory." Wesker paused in his walking, coming to stand at the foot of the bed. "They were going to kill you, you became the very thing you were hunting."_

_His anger was slipping away as the other talked, finally starting to understand the situation. "What's in it for you? Why'd you help me?" He asked._

_Wesker came around to the side of the bed, sitting down next to him, before continuing, holding eye contact. "Because I care, you have a full life ahead of you still, a potential. You are something more, something greater, we have never seen evaluations like this."_

_"Who's 'we'?"_

_"Umbrella, of course." Wesker stood up, heading for the door. "There is still a part in the world for you, which remains to be seen. Choose to accept it, and I can help you find that part, if your trust me. _

_Otherwise... I can't help you."_

_The sound of the door closing left him in silence and to his thoughts. The days events playing past, and what the man just told him. He guessed he could just leave, walk out of here, continue on his own. __**Then where would you go? Who would you be? **__A voice mocked in his head. __**You step out of that door and then what? You'll be leaving the only person who would help you, your just a monster to everyone else.**__ Maybe, maybe not, but he guessed he could wait a few more days, after all, people fear what they don't understand._

Dean stared at the empty chair, just stared, irritably and in disbelief. The room was silent, and he hated it, because it shouldn't be silent.

Really, what the _hell_?

The broken links to the cuffs were dangling from their locked vice around the chair, mocking the brothers with their lack of prisoner, and the other link was completely missing, the arm of the chair having been snapped and broken, the splinters of the wood showing in the break. That said cuff was later found outside in the car park next to tire tracks that became untraceable, again, mocking the brothers with its presence. So, their demon was gone, walked out of the boundaries of the symbols and disappearing, and the weird thing is, the prisoner had warned them that should they leave him alone, even for a second, that he'd be gone.

Looks like he wasn't bluffing.

Dean continued to stare, wondering just how a demon could break free of restraints that can hold even the most powerful, But then, there are more than Demons that walk this world. "Did you find anything?" Dean asked, still staring at the space.

"No." Sam said, giving up on the search and walking over to inspect the cuffs, noting that the metal had been torn, strength that pulled it to a point of breaking, not that the brothers hadn't seen that before, but how the man got out of the barrier on the floor, that was different. There were no cracks in the wood, no part of the symbol had been broken, it was all in tack, like the guy just literally strolled out. "Maybe where not dealing with a demon." Sam said, standing up. "I don't know, but he didn't seem... the evil type, you know? There is something human, something different about him. Maybe he'd not out enemy."

"If its not human, then thats our job, Sammy." Dean said, finally walking away to go back to the laptop. "If this can't tell up who he is, then maybe Cas' will? After all, those angels are always bickering that they know everything."

"But you've read the page, you know this mans history. Maybe this isn't our job, this isn't our place." Trying to reason with the other, Sam walked over, closing the laptop, despite the feeling that still lingered.

Maybe they should sit this one out, maybe they should further investigate the mystery behind this man, who the government claimed dead.


	7. Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

~Not all who wonder are lost.

Rain pelted down from the darkness above, casting everything in its fall and glittering on the glass of the windows, soaking the street and mirroring the lights, forming white mist in he distance, obscuring the town and cloaking it from the outer borders.

Natures essence soaked and dripped from his hair, impossibly darkening the already black material of his shirt and running down like mini water falls on his coat, coming to run off the roof he was currently kneeling on, over looking the street. He closed his eyed for a moment and breathed in, enjoying the scent of the rain as it seemed to cleanse him, washing away the invisible blood that itched his face. The rain drops sounded all around him, some more louder than others as they clashed with puddles, or fell from distances like the roof he was stationed on. He could hear them. Every, single, one. Behind closed eyes a map formed, black and white, the shimmering surfaces of the sound where the rain impacted, like glitter under moonlight. It was beautiful.

Opening his eyes brought him back to the reality, the earth, the divided line between heaven and hell.

The stars did not bless his presence this night, the moon was hiding her rays behind the stormy clouds, looks like she was shielding him, she was his silence, his protection against prying eyes for the night.

He averted his gaze from the sky and directed his stare to the streets below, watching the patrolled movements of the guards as they prowled the area, their bored demenor no mask for their attention to detail, there sence of hearing to things that were unnatural. It was their job. This town had protocal to follow, law was very strick these days, no way to wing yourself out of law inforcment's clutches once they have you, even if you did nothing wrong, they will find something to put you away.

Pity they didn't see the thugs even when they're facing you, they didn't see through their lies.

First building left side, one guard at the doors, the other coming from an ally way. Same building, guard posted on the first balcony. Two blocks down, three were standing in the street at an intersection, occasionally coming together to talk. No doubt throwing jokes and taunts to pass time. Next street, one block down, a light was on, showing two men sitting down. Same street, about five blocks down, there was a tower, the small shadow of a figure could be seen stepping around in the small space, patrolling north, east, south and west. That was only section B.

Security was tight tonight.

He smirked.

His targeted location was only a few blocks away, just at the borders between Section B and C. The buildings in this town were three story's high maximum, with many ally ways and piping. He glanced to the east, seeing numerous chimneys and wires, the gaps between each block were far enough, no one could jump that space. No one human...

He started at a leisure pace, before breaking into a light jog and then a run, footfalls making no sound on the paving of the roof. Water was cut off him with the wind, he placed a firm foot down and pushed off when he reached the edge, sailing across the air like black fabric, the dull flutter of his coat sounding like wings. The jump was measured carefully, not too short and not too long, his foot connected with the roof of the next building, he landed, rolling to break the impact and to keep moving, smoothly springing back up to his feet and continuing.

When he reached the building next to his targeted location, he slowed to a stop, coming to survey the area, assessing the situation. Directly below him in the ally were two guards, one patrolled the left, the other the right. The building was large, and luckily, or unluckily, which ever way you look at it, there were no balconies, the doors were watched by the street guards. Looks like he's taking the windows, and he can see just the right one. It seemed the people living in this building weren't as smart as he thought they'd be.

He eyed the slightly ajar window, weighing his options, before shrugging. The purchase was only about three meters away, considering that only a ally way separated the blocks, though he couldn't jump through it.

Making a decision, he took a few steps back, and jumped to the roof of his targets building, right above the third floor window. Turning around, he grasped the gutter with a tight grip and swung over the side with one hand and then proceeded to hang on the side of the building, three floors right above the patrol units, who at this point still remained oblivious to the threat. He looked at his destination, just a meter shy from him. With one hand still keeping him suspended, he reached into his coat with the other, pulling a grappling hook from his belt and attaching it to the same surprisingly strong gutter he was hanging from.

Now at eye level with the window, and checking for anyone inside, when it was all clear, he edged forward, adding a little swing and grasping the thin 3 inch window sill, coming to balance on it with the tips of his boots. He placed his foot on one side of the window, and his shoulder on the other, bracing himself with the pressure. When he was sure that he was balanced, he took both hands off, releasing the grappling hook and now perched on the side of the building. He checked briefly under him, seeing that he is still undetected, and carefully reached under the open window, releasing the stopper and opening it all the way.

He crouched in the darkened room, though his eyes could clearly see that he was in someones study, book shelves lined the walls, sofa's and coffee tables with an unlit fire place, and a rather expensive looking desk at the far left in front of a large window, the outside world covered with curtains.

Targets name, was Derek Marksmen. A man who had power over this town, his weapon? Fear. He controled the rangers, the drug dealers, smugglers, criminals, anyone and everyone he chooses. The locals in the area never left their homes, simply because if the thugs didn't get them, Dereks men would. The town was boarded off, a wall of imprisonment keeping everyone in, and everyone out. Well, not everyone... Those who were found, outsiders, would be dealt with punishment, such as death. The outside world didn't know the goings of this town, the influence that Derek provided was too strong.

Though the world continued spinning. Its time for a change.

Although he has his own reasons to being here, the other was the job. His employer had a pack to settle with this man, and eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. His job was to assassinate Derek, steal the codes for an account detail, and bring back the mans family ring for proof, also inevitably releasing the town of Dereks hold, if anyone else didn't take the mans place. It was all about money, power, and control. What his employer wanted it for was non of his business, only if it didn't warrant his attention, because he made sure to accept the jobs that do the world a favor, and if anyone he worked for planed to use him for their own devious intentions, the contract would be terminated.

In a body bag.

The house was silent, almost too silent to his liking. He expected this man to have some form of security, an alarm system, anything other than the seemingly lack of presence in the hallways. Though he moved forward quietly, he was here now, might as well do something about it.

He didn't know the layout of the house, but it wasn't hard to find the bedrooms, it was typical. First floor, kitchens and dining rooms. Second floor, lounge rooms and bathrooms. Third floor, bedrooms and private studies. The building housed a family of three, though two were missing. Leaving the only room left on this floor his target.

The quiet unsettled him, but he felt no sense of danger, so he proceeded, reaching the door to his target, pausing to listen briefly before opening it quietly and stepping in the room.

His eyes were already adjusted to the dark as he closed the door behind him, the room was rather large, no surprise. Carpet covered the floor which was also decorated with rugs, small tables lined the corners of the room, paintings hung on the walls, random sculptures here and there, a table and shelf, a single velvet chair. All and all, the man had terrible taste. At least he won't feel guilty about the mess later.

He stepped towards the large bed to the far right of the room, his presence unnoticed to the man asleep on the mattress. His target, Derek Marksmen. The man slept like the dead, faint snores sounding and making him cringe, the man really was a pig. He eyed his target for a moment before walking over to the bed side table and drawing his single bladed swiss knife, bending down slightly to turn on the lamp that took residence there. The snoring hitched as light filtered through this part of the room, but the man did not waken.

**Humans... **He thought with a sigh. **They think they're so untouchable. **

He took a seat on the velvet chair next to the bed, casually toying with the blade in his gloved hands as he played over all the reasons as to why this man should die, as to why he was here. He took the liberty of searching this man up before he took the job, as he does with every employer and target. What he found, well, lets just say, he accepted the job, took the information required, and went on his way. It was time the man paid for his crimes.

Much sooner than he thought, the snoring stopped, and the man stirred.

Huh... guess that saved him the trouble of waking the slouch up.

He watched with contained amusement as the man blinked at the light in the room, he could see the rusty wheels turning in the mans head, confusion. He turned his attention to the blade in his hands, elegantly long with a groove down the side and coming to 10 inches long, admiring the gleaming silver as it spun in skilled fingers, he flexed his wrist and swinging the blade closed, coming to nest in the agile hilt, the small click that sounded finaly drawing the blurry attention of the other man.

"I'd be quiet, unless you want me to kill you now." He said in a bored but meaningful quiet voice, seeing the alarm and shock the marked the others now very awake face.

Derek sat up, tense and eyeing the person in his home, though heeding the words that were spoken. "...Who are you..?" He asked in an equity low tone.

"I'll tell you one thing," He said, fixing his stare and idly drawing the blade again, releasing the catch. "If I'm here, then you've been one bad boy..." He made no move forward, or any indication of movement, instead he settled for just sitting comfortably, casually as he twirled the blade, one leg crossed over the other.

"What do you want." The man sneered, demanding an answer.

He shrugged. "Right now, some scotch, a burger, and hot sex. But we don't always get what we want." He commented dryly.

"I do."

"Yeah," He said with a sigh. "That's the problem. You have a whole area under lockdown, the people live in fear, family's unable to support their children, unable to pay for the electricity bills, water bills, unable to set a decent meal at night, the money you took from them."

"What makes you think that?" Derek cut in, angry, a hand moving discretely behind.

"I don't think, Mr Marksmen." He said annoyingly, and although his eyes were locked on the blade in his gloved fingers, he didn't miss the movement the other was trying to hide. "You've murdered innocents, influenced, blackmailed, you alow the crooks on the streets to roam, you alow drug dealers to set their business under your wing, your influence is like a virus. You live like a king, but you, _sire_, your rule has ended." He could see the man getting edgy the more he spoke, and just as he'd finished, the man struck.

In the space of a second, he moved with unnatural speed, dodging the throwing knife the Derek had thrown at him, the sounding 'thump' as the knife buried itself in the chair he'd just been lounging in, right where his head had been. He had to hand it to the other, that was a good throw. Moving like a black blur and a flash of steel, he had the man pinned to the bed, a knee planted firmly on the others chest keeping Derek immobile, holding his swiss knife to the others throat in warning.

"H-how'd you-" The bewildered man stuttered in shock, staring at him.

"Shhh," He whispered, placing a gloved finger and stopping his targets words. "Don't lose sleep over it." He held the knife steady as his other hand reached within his coat, pulling a small device from the folds.

"Whats that?" Derek dared asked, eyes focusing on the cylinder object, making a move against the knife at his throat, only to be held firm.

"Just a little insurance." He remarked lightly, taking the cap off the needle and analyzing the clear liquid in the syringe. "consider yourself lucky, Derek, that I'm not angry. Otherwise I'd just forgo the pleasantries and slit your throat."

"They'll know I was murdered, they'll hunt you down."

Poor line of defence. "It'll look like you died of a heart attack, not how my employer would kill you, I'm sure. But you see, I do things differently. They won't find your body until morning, and by then I'll be long gone. The town will report that Derek Marksmen died of a fatal heard attack late last night, the guards found no sign of struggle indicating that he died in his sleep. It came to a devastating blow to the Marksmen's house hold and to the people, but the world will move one, and no one will ever know what you've done." He leaned down closer, bringing the needle to rest on the side of his targets throat. "End of story, case closed, drug - undetectable." He smiled sweetly, injecting the needle and hitting the plunger.

The man struggled for a moment, fighting the hold as icy fingers traveled through his blood stream. Though soon, the struggles died down, and the last thing Derek Marksmen saw, were the unnatural blue eyes of a demon.

When his targets eyes closed and all movement ceased, he relaxed his hold, bringing up a finger to the mans non-existent pulse, satisfied, he rearranged the body, took the mans ring on his right hand and stood up, discarding the empty needle in his coat.

Taking a moment to search to room, he walked over to the desk, flicking through papers and draws until he came across the part of his deal, he folded the document into a secure inner coat pocket along with the ring, and now that he's got what he came for, he could finally leave.

The sound of the door opening and booted feet on the carpet caught his immediate attention. He tensed, releasing the catch of the knife as the sheen of metal sounded in the room. He couldn't see who entered, with his back to the door, but the foot steps stopped, no doubt they'd saw him the moment they entered. What was strange, though, is that no alarm was sounded, only more foot falls accompanied the first.

"So..." A familiar voice drawled, making him tense even more. "We meet again."

_**What do ya'll thing, eh? I posted two chapters in one day because I was **_**_bored, so feel special! :D_**


End file.
